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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25209085">close to midnight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/starblessed/pseuds/starblessed'>starblessed</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Band of Brothers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Banter, Gen, Haunted Houses, Haunting, M/M, Past Character Death, Supernatural Elements</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:01:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,588</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25209085</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/starblessed/pseuds/starblessed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you want me to do it? I will. I’ll write in blood on the walls. I’ll bang on windows, I’ll throw their fancy thousand dollar equipment around. I’ll whisper naughty words in their little machines.” Joe can’t help smiling at the thought of the investigators’ faces lit up with terror. “Hell, I’ll drag one of ‘em through the house by their hair. That’ll get the ghost hunters excited.”</p><p>“You’re an idiot,” says Webster, and for the millionth time in the past four decades, Joe wishes he could be spending eternity with anyone else.</p><p>No. Instead, he had to get caught in the afterlife with David freakin' Webster.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Babe Heffron &amp; Bill Guarnere, Joseph Liebgott/David Kenyon Webster</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>close to midnight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>okay, it's nowhere near halloween and i wrote this three years ago, but listen.  listen.<br/>this is the funniest goddamn thing i have ever written.</p><p>Of course, the characters in this fic are based off of their fictional portrayals from the miniseries Band of Brothers, and I mean no disrespect to the real-life veterans!</p><p>Find me on tumblr at <a href="http://renelemaires.tumblr.com/">renelemaires</a>!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The camera flickers on to catch a close-up of furrowed brows and a set of focused brown eyes.</p><p>After a second, the frustration clears from the man’s face. He leans back just enough to adjust it, flashing a wide grin, before stepping away from the camera.</p><p>“Okay,” he announces, taking a step away from the camera stand. “We’re set! Who’s ready to roll, huh?”</p><p>“Nice goin’, Luz, you just gave ‘em a huge shot of your face,” a gravelly voice offscreen chides. Luz looks past the camera, cheshire grin widening.</p><p>“They oughta be grateful. C’mon Joe, get over here, let them see you too. We gotta show who’s in charge of this whole thing. For when we get famous later.”</p><p>Reluctantly, another man steps into the frame. He looks as awkward in front of the camera as his partner does comfortable, even as Luz tugs him down to crouch next to him.</p><p>Luz turns to him, officious and commanding, as he adjusts a pair of invisible spectacles. “Mr. Toye,” he says, in a spot-on impersonation of that one guy from 60 Minutes, “how does it feel to be the first person to find <em>definitive scientific evidence</em> that ghosts... are <em>real?”</em></p><p>“Feels like I’m in an old crackhouse at midnight being interrogated by a crazy person,” Toye replies flatly, casting a sideways glance towards the camera lens. When Luz flares up in indignation, he is ignored.</p><p>“Okay, okay. This wasn’t a crackhouse. It was a --- a boarding house, you know? Place where people used to live back in olden times.”</p><p>“Then it was abandoned. Then it turned into a crackhouse.” Toye’s gaze bores into the camera, like he’s trying to make it more uncomfortable than its making him.</p><p>Luz rolls his eyes. “The point is, it’s not a crackhouse now. Come on, this place has been abandoned for years.”</p><p>Toye is determined not to lose his impromptu staring contest. “Sure. When can we be done here?”</p><p>“Oh, we’re just getting started,” Luz extols. “We’re here all night. As soon as those two get done setting up the sound equipment —“ He pauses. His gaze wanders past the camera again, brow furrowing. “Alright. Where the hell are Bill and Babe with the sound equipment?”</p><p>“Jesus Christ,” says Toye, hand smacking his face as he slumps over.</p>
<hr/><p>In another part of the house, a high-tech voice recorder is finally activated, after fifteen minutes of tinkering, puzzling, thumping, and at least thirty-five “how the hell does this thing work”s.</p><p>“Here it is!” exclaims a supremely thrilled voice, too close to the speaker — his voice is a static scream. “I got it, the little bastard!”</p><p>“Move away from the thing,” another voice demands. “What the hell are you tryin’ to do, kiss it? Whisper sweet nothings? Get back, genius.”</p><p>“Watch it!” exclaims the first voice. Then, after a few seconds: “How’s your stuff coming? Pick anything up?”</p><p>“No, I haven’t picked anything up, because I’ve barely got the thing turned on yet. What, d’you think all this ghost shit’s just gonna happen at once?”</p><p>“Well. I was hoping.”</p><p>“Sure you were,” Bill huffs. “I know this is your first hunt, Babe, so get used to waiting. It gets a lot more boring than this.”</p><p>“My brain’s gonna melt out of my skull.” Babe pauses, considering. “Hey, Bill, you think people would find that spooky?”</p><p>“Jesus,” mutters Bill. If he was hoping Babe was done, though, he’s out of luck.</p><p>“I mean, the deaths before were pretty weird too, right? The ones George told us about. This place was a boarding house from the 1930s to 60s, and then sometime in the 60s that journalist guy — Werner?”</p><p>“Webster,” contributes Bill absently.</p><p>“Right, Webster died. He drowned in his bathtub, right? Only they don’t know how it happened because he was supposed to be a really strong swimmer. Plus it was a bathtub. I mean, that’s weird. Say what you want, but that's fuckin' weird!"</p><p>“The guy was having a rough night, had a bit too much to drink, fell asleep in the water. It ain’t much of a mystery, Babe.”</p><p>“Okay, sure. But the details don't add up! A bunch of people kept saying someone killed him, and his manuscript was missing from his room, and he was investigating that embezzlement case <em>right</em> before he died..." Babe stares at Bill expectantly, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When it doesn't --- and it becomes clear his friend is judging him for just how much research he put into this case --- he shakes his head with a huff. "I’m just saying, that’s creepy! And then in the 90s, the other kid —“</p><p>“The drug addict. Come on, that’s not weird.”</p><p>“They found him with half his blood painting the room, Bill! And the news article said he drowned! How the hell do you drown on dry land? That’s freaky as anything!”</p><p>“No, it’s not. The guy got in a fight, because this used to be a crackhouse, and fights happen in places like that. The article says he was stabbed. He probably… bled out, drowned in his own blood or something.”</p><p>“Doesn’t say that. Just says <em>drowned.</em> If it were blood, it would say blood.”</p><p>“So who the hell cares how he died? Point is, he’s dead now. And after he showed up dead, the cops cleaned this house up, so there’s no more drugs here now. We’re as safe as we can get.”</p><p>“Yeah, ‘cept for the ghosts.”</p><p>“For the last time, Babe, there are<em> no fuckin’ —“</em></p>
<hr/><p>It’s funny to see how the duo jumps when one of the ancient books suddenly topples from the bookshelf onto the floor. Joe has to hold back a snort at the sight of them. Babe almost leaps out of his skin, while Bill has assumed a position like a threatened hedgehog. His eyes are wide, his fists are in the air, and he’s in full fight-or-fight mode.</p><p>It’s goddamn hilarious.</p><p>This group is hardly the first so-called “ghost hunters” who have come to observe the house, but Joe gets the feeling they’ll be the most fun to mess with. From the two in the other room, who are too busy pretending they’re making a damn documentary, to these guys, who can hardly get the equipment working… screwing with them will be like taking candy from a baby.</p><p>“Will you quit that?”</p><p>Joe tenses up. Just like terrorizing small children, there’s always going to be someone around who ruins your fun.</p><p>When he turns, he finds Webster leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. He’s got that sour look on his face again, like he’s sucking on a lemon. “It’s immature.”</p><p>Believing in ghosts is immature, in Joe’s (totally non-ghostly) opinion. As far as he’s concerned, these four dumbasses have got it coming.</p><p>He could say as much to Web, but by now he’s learned there’s no point. Webster makes a point of discarding his opinions at every opportunity. Joe can’t reason with the guy. He can’t make him see logic when he’s already devoted to his so-fucking-intelligent opinion. No, there’s only one surefire way to get through to Webster, and that’s to pick a fight with him. Joe’s had enough arguments to last an eternity — which is, coincidentally, as long as he has to spend in this house.</p><p>With Webster.</p><p>Webster, who haunted this house long before Joe decided to die there. Webster, who was the last thing Joe saw, like an angel appearing in the midst of a fever dream, before he started choking on liquid that should not have been in his lungs. Webster, who Joe’s still not certain didn’t <em>kill</em> him. Webster, the most pretentious ghost on the damn planet.</p><p>Fate can be a bitch sometimes.</p><p>So instead of saying anything reasonable to Web, he just looks over his shoulder and sneers. “Why d’you care what I do? Screw off, author boy. Go back to your room.”</p><p>“My room has two more ‘investigators’ in it.” Web sounds phenomenally put out. Joe can’t find it in himself to be sympathetic.</p><p>“Boo-fuckin’ hoo. Go scare ‘em off.”</p><p>“Wow, great idea.” Webster sounds dismissive, but Joe knows the truth. He doesn’t want to exert the energy that manifesting will actually take. It will leave him exhausted for days, and Web just hates it when his “aura is drained”. In Joe’s opinion, he’s a lazy ass.</p><p>“Do you want me to do it? I will. I’ll write in blood on the walls. I’ll bang on windows, I’ll throw their fancy thousand dollar equipment around. I’ll whisper naughty words in their little machines.” Joe can’t help smiling at the thought of the investigators’ faces lit up with terror. “Hell, I’ll drag one of ‘em through the house by their hair. That’ll get the ghost fuckers excited.”</p><p>It looks like Webster wants to smile, for just a second; but he ducks his head, and when he looks up, he’s the same old superior Webster. “You’re an idiot,” he says.</p><p>Maybe he’d been hoping for a different reaction. Joe doesn’t know, and convinced himself he doesn’t care as he turns away from the other ghost. “You’re an asshole.”</p><p>“You’re insufferable.”</p><p>“You’re a prick with a ninety year old superiority complex.”</p><p>“You’re a drug addict.”</p><p><em>“Was,”</em> Joe shoots back, finally flaring up. That was a low blow. “You drowned in a fuckin’ bathtub!”</p><p>“I was murdered! My landlady —“</p><p>“You <em>want</em> to have been murdered, you dumb ass! You didn’t sleep for three days, and passed out in the bath! Your landlady has nothing to do with it! Saying you were murdered just sounds cooler, doesn’t it?”</p><p>Webster’s eyes narrow, while the rest of him puffs up in righteous indignation. “You know, at least you can say you were killed —“</p><p>“Yeah, I was! By <em>you,</em> fucker!”</p><p>“You were stabbed!”</p><p>“You <em>drowned</em> me!”</p><p>“You were dying anyway!”</p><p>“That doesn’t make it okay!”</p><p>Web falls silent, still flared up and furious. Veins throb at the temples of his flushed face. His chest heaves; his shoulders shake. He looks two seconds from throwing a punch, and Joe almost hopes he does. Let them get into one of their wild, all out, shake-the-walls-and-ceilings fights. Give the investigators a real show.</p><p>“I can’t stand being stuck with you for all eternity,” Web finally says, voice tight and furious.</p><p>“Yeah, me too. I’d rather die. Fuck, <em>wait,</em> guess what, I’m already fuckin' dead!”</p><p>He watches with no small amount of glee as Webster’s lips curl back in a snarl, exposing rows of perfect bared teeth. He looks two seconds away from conniption, and it’s glorious. Nothing satisfies Joe more than leaving the eloquent bastard speechless. <em>“Scheiss Arschloch!”</em> Webster spits after a moment, and Joe allows a wide, manic grin to spread across his face.</p><p>“That’s it,<em> liebling. Erzähl mir mehr! Bitte!”</em></p><p>
  <em>“Fick dich!”</em>
</p><p>“So eloquent —“ He moans, tossing his head back in mock-ecstasy.</p><p>That’s the moment Web really does punch him.</p>
<hr/><p>They wind up fleeing the house in blind panic as the walls rattle, doors slamming at their heels. Babe doesn’t stop screaming until they’re already speeding down a side street, kicking and clambering over each other to find their seats in Bill’s oversized truck. Their equipment clatters where it’s been haphazardly thrown in the trunk. Were Luz not so distracted, he would be mourning the inevitable damage.</p><p>He’s too busy screaming. “Oh Jesus. Oh Jesus fuck! Jesus, Mary, and the holy fuckin’ ghost, what<em> was that?”</em></p><p>“That was exactly what you think it was!” Bill hollers back. “It was a fuckin’ ghost!”</p><p>“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit —“ Babe choruses. He sounds like he’s sobbing.</p><p>Toye just drives. He does not look behind him. He does not take his eyes off the road. He just drives.</p><p>The first misadventure of the Pennsylvania (and Rhode Island, By Technicality) Paranormal Research Society has come to a premature end.</p><p>It’s not until they review the evidence they’ve collected later that night that they realize something was really wild in that house.</p><p>To be fair, they all knew that to begin with. The slamming doors had left little question of that; the way books flew off the shelves, broken furniture spun across the room, and windows slammed open and shut left no question of that. There was <em>something</em> in that house and it wanted them gone so much that it chased them out.</p><p>It’s only when they’re safe and sound, holed up in Babe’s basement and clustered around George’s laptop, that they realize exactly what they caught.</p><p>“Am I losing it,” says Babe, “or does that sound like German?”</p><p>“No,” replies Luz. “That’s definitely German.”</p><p>“What’s he saying?”</p><p>“How should I know?”</p><p>“Shut up,” Toye hisses, and fast forwards to a particular part of the audio clip. Here, a very clear voice can be hear saying, “Joe, you’re an asshole!”</p><p>And then it sounds almost like someone mimicking him back, in a higher voice. The group thinks it’s a woman for all of a split second before it dawns on them. The first ghost is being mocked.</p><p>“I… think we found the ghosts of an old a married couple,” says Babe.</p><p>“A gay married couple.” Bill scrunches his nose up. “Gay ghosts? Can that happen?”</p><p>“They fact that they’re ghosts shouldn’t mean they can’t be gay. Straight ghosts can happen.”</p><p>“How do you know so much about ghosts?” Bill demands. “Have you met any?”</p><p>“No!” retorts Babe. “Just, ghosts can be as gay as anybody else! Maybe every ghost is a little gay, who knows? We ain’t here to make judgments on any ghost’s lifestyle! There’s nothing weird about being a gay ghost!”</p><p>“Oh my god,” Toye says again, and slams his forehead down into his hands.</p><p>Next time Luz wants to do a “fun group thing”, they should all go rock climbing or learn to hotwire a car. Rob a bank. Commit a murder. Anything's a better choice than ghost hunting.</p>
<hr/><p>Webster seems much happier after the investigators leave, which Joe supposes is a good thing. A happy Web is less inclined to be a pain in the ass, especially if he’s allowed to curl up in front of the TV in his room.</p><p>Technically, the house doesn’t have cable. The house doesn’t have power. Ghosts can get around the laws of physics, so this isn’t a huge problem. Web’s biggest worry in his afterlife is making sure he doesn’t miss any shark documentaries when they pop up on the Discovery Channel.</p><p>Webster is a weird, weird dude.</p><p>“Think they liked the show?” Joe asks, plopping down on one side of the couch. Webster is slumped over, using his hands to pillow his head (the energy it takes to turn on the TV would be enough to wear him out, even if they didn’t mess around with the house earlier). He just makes a weird grunting noise and shifts over until his head is resting in Joe’s lap.</p><p>Joe allows it. Webster smells nice, in a faint, ghostly way; and his hair is fluffy. Laying on him is one of the least annoying things he could do. At least he’s quiet.</p><p>They argue all the time, but their fights never last for long. There’s no point holding grudges when you’ve got an eternity with someone, after all. Joe and Webster are both going to be here a long time.</p><p>Maybe fate is kind of cruel, but Joe is sure there are worst places he could have ended up than at Webster’s side. All things considered, it’s not the worst afterlife in the world.</p>
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